


The Legacy

by DizzyDrea



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Friendship, Gen, HP: EWE, Mental Health Issues, Not Epilogue Compliant, Possibly Pre-Slash, Trope Bingo Round 10, Wizards behaving badly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-19 16:12:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13708011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyDrea/pseuds/DizzyDrea
Summary: Someone's killing Death Eaters. Turns out, it's the last person anyone expected.





	The Legacy

**Author's Note:**

> I don't exactly know where this came from, but I quite enjoyed writing it. If you're wearing your slash goggles, you'll see some flirting. It can be read as pre-slash or gen, though, so don't let that put you off.
> 
> For the _Handcuffs_ square on my Trope Bingo card (even if the hancuffs in question barely make an appearance).
> 
> Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all its particulars is the property of J. K. Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloosmbury Publishing, Arthur A. Levine Books and a lot of other people who aren't me. I'm doing this for fun and for practice. Mostly for fun.

~o~

He stood in a dark corner of the shop, waiting patiently for something to happen. Or, more precisely, waiting for something specific to happen. 

As the Head Auror, Harry Potter could have delegated this particular task to someone else, but given that someone had been attacking suspected former Death Eaters, and that they suspected someone within the Ministry of the attacks, he felt that he needed to handle this himself. Not knowing who on his staff he could trust—apart from a few close associates he was certain weren't involved—had been stressful, but he was hoping that today would see the end of the attacks.

And so he found himself standing in the corner of a potions lab of dubious reputation, his red Auror robes hidden under his invisibility cloak, waiting for his mark to show up.

Thankfully, it didn't take long. He'd only been there a half an hour when the spelled chimes on the door tinkled softly in the room. The door creaked open to reveal a person clad in a black cloak, hood pulled up to obscure the face. 

Harry could tell it was a man by the height and broad shoulders. That wasn't a surprise; they'd suspected a man once the victims started turning up. It wasn't that women weren't capable of killing, just that they often preferred poison or other debilitating potions, something they could deliver and then walk away before the effects began to show. To eviscerate someone with a cutting spell, or to cast _Avada Kadavra_ —which had been the cause of death of at least one victim—took an individual with a strong stomach and some pretty intense anger issues.

The door fell shut as the visitor moved further into the room, his head swiveling around, taking in the whole room. It was modest, as shops go, with a counter at the back where Harry stood waiting, and several shelves behind. The door in the corner led to the lab itself, where the potions were brewed and the ingredients stored. Harry held very still; even though no one yet had been able to see him under the cloak, he didn't want to accidentally disturb something and give the man a clue to his presence.

Apparently satisfied that there was no one else in the shop, the man in the cloak stepped up to the counter and raised his hand, tapping on the small bell that sat next to the till.

"I heard you the first time," a voice from the back floated out.

The potions master appeared in the doorway, a leather apron covering his clothes, though it didn't look like it was doing any good. The linen shirt, which had presumably been pristine white and crisp at one time, was now dingy and stained, as were the black trousers the man wore. His hair, normally shiny and impeccably styled, hung from his head in dirty waves, most of it having escaped the leather thong he'd tied it back with.

In short, Draco Malfoy looked a right mess.

Whatever his appearance, it didn't seem to dent his attitude any. "What do you want?" he asked, brusque and sharp, as if a paying customer was somehow a burden he was forced to live with.

"Nothing much," a quiet, raspy voice said from under the cloak. "Tell me, Malfoy, how did you do it?"

"Do what?" Draco asked. His irritation was palpable, even from across the room. "Speak up. I haven't got all day, you know."

"How did you convince them all that you're not a Death Eater?" the man asked. "Because we all know you are. We all know you served the Dark Lord. You're a Malfoy. What else would you have done? But somehow, you fooled everyone. Even Harry Bloody Potter. But not me. You haven't fooled me. I know exactly who and what you are, and today, everyone else will know the truth as well."

The man threw back his cloak as his wand slid into his hand and Harry almost gasped in shock. Standing there, a man on the verge of committing murder, was the last person he expected to see, red hair glinting in the low light coming off the candles scattered along the walls and a wild look in his eyes that was wholly unfamiliar.

"Going to kill me, are you?" Draco said, glancing at his visitor disdainfully. Harry thought that might not be the thing to do when one had a wand pointed at oneself, but he wasn't Draco, and couldn't pull off disdainful very well anyway.

"What, not even going to defend yourself?" Ron said, looking utterly shocked when Draco didn't so much as move a hand towards his wand. "Typical. Such a bloody coward you are."

Harry stood in shock. How could he have missed it? When, in all their years as friends, had Ron Weasley gone so far around the bend and he hadn't noticed? He watched, almost paralyzed, as Ron raised his wand, clearly getting ready to cast some unimaginable spell that would lay waste to Draco. 

As if that was the impetus he needed, he threw off his own cloak as his wand slid into his hand. _"Petrificus totalis!"_ he nearly yelled.

Instantly, Ron's body stiffened as if made of stone. He teetered for one long instant, then fell over backwards, hitting the floor with a sickening thud. 

Harry rushed forward, leaning over the counter to peer at his—well, his former friend, he guessed, given what had just happened.

"Took you long enough," Draco said, leaning his hip against the counter and examining his fingers as if he hadn't a care in the world. "You are going to owe me so many manicures after this. Look at these hands." He shook his head. "The things I do for you, Potter."

Harry turned and stared at Draco. "He almost killed you and you're thinking about your manicure?"

"Well, he wouldn't have gotten so close if you hadn't been doing your own impression of a statue in the corner," Draco said. "I mean, I know he's a friend, but you're the Auror here. Don't they train you how not to freeze up at the most critical moment of the whole operation?"

"Like you're not a fully-trained Hit Wizard for the ICW," Harry shot back, finally allowing some of the shock to bleed away. "And what's with coming out here unarmed, anyway? If I hadn't been here, he'd have AK'd you, or worse. And you'd have just stood there, waiting for someone to swan in and help you."

Suddenly, Draco's wand was in his hand, pointing at the bridge of Harry's glasses. Draco casually dropped the tip of the wand, pausing briefly over Harry's heart, before ending up pointed at other, more tender bits of his anatomy. Point made, the wand slid up into his sleeve much slower than it had appeared.

"Potter, the ICW issues disillusioned wand holsters along with the dragonhide armor," Draco said. "I've seen you ogling my arse when I'm wearing it often enough, so you can't have missed it."

"I—that's—but—" Harry spluttered, unable to form a proper reply to that. Trouble was, Draco wasn't wrong. He looked spectacular in the dragonhide, and he knew it.

Harry was saved from having to figure out how to respond by the opening of the shop's front door. Neville Longbottom charged in, two more Aurors right behind him.

"Okay, there, Harry?" he asked. He glanced down at the body on the floor, doing a comical double-take when he recognized the prone figure. "Ron? What the bloody hell has this world come to when it's Ron Weasley running about killing people?"

"My sentiments exactly," Draco drawled. "Magical Britain has seen a terrible drop-off in the quality of its criminals. It's a shame, really. I thought Voldemort's death would have upped the average, but apparently not."

"Ha bloody ha," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "Does one of you lot have the 'cuffs?" At a nod from one of the other Aurors—Dunleavy, if Harry remembered correctly—he waived at the body. "Well, get on with it. I don't fancy having to carry him back to the Ministry."

The two younger Aurors set about securing Ron's wand and slapping the 'cuffs on him as Neville moved to join them at the counter.

"So, do we know what's sent Ron 'round the twist?" he asked as they watched. "That's presuming he's responsible for the other murders, of course."

Harry sighed. "I wish I could say he's not capable of it, but from the little I saw, he's a bit unhinged. Not sure when that happened, though. You haven't noticed anything off, have you, Neville?"

"No," Neville said, shaking his head. "But then again, we don't work together a lot since you shuffled him off to petty crimes. He seemed alright the last time we all went for drinks. A bit sullen, what with Hermione still ignoring him, but otherwise in good spirits. Got a bit more than pissed that night, but I figured he was due."

"Probably still can't figure out why Granger left him," Draco said, shaking his head. "Lazy git. I'm surprised it took her this long to figure out he was never going to propose, never mind get off his arse and actually work for a living."

"Malfoy," Harry said, a bit of warning in his tone. Draco just looked at him, clearly wondering why he was still defending his friend, considering the circumstances. Harry had to admit that it was mostly habit at this point. It had been clear from the start that Ron was simply coasting through school and Auror training, relying on Harry's superior scores to keep him going. The breakup with Hermione was just one more symptom of a larger problem he'd been pushing off dealing with. Harry sighed in defeat, his shoulders slumping. "Right."

Dunleavy finally got the 'cuffs secured around Ron's wrists, and ended the spell holding him still. As soon as he'd been set free, Ron scrambled to his feet and started ranting at all of them, the two Aurors trying to keep hold of him so he couldn't get away. Ron, it appeared, was more interested in yelling at them than he was escaping.

"Let me go!" he yelled, his face turning a deep red. "You don't understand! I've got to get rid of them! If I don't get rid of them, they'll just find another Dark Lord and it'll start all over again. Don't you see? I have to do it, have to make the world safe again. I have to—"

 _"Silencio!"_ Harry, Neville and Draco each cast at Ron at exactly the same time.

Ron swayed, his knees crumpling a bit under the strain of three powerful silencing charms hitting him at once. 

"Well, I suppose that answers whether or not he's our serial killer," Neville said into the silence. "So, St. Mungo's or back to the Ministry?"

Harry watched as his oldest friend swayed and chattered, arms flailing as much as the 'cuffs and his two Aurors would let them, though none of them could hear him at the moment. The tomato red of earlier had dimmed to a dull, patchy color that made him look like he had a fever.

"St. Mungo's, I think," Harry said, making a snap decision. "He's really not looking well, and I don't think it's all down to us hitting him with spells all at once. Neville—"

"I'll take him," Neville said, pushing off the counter. "Drinks later, to celebrate?"

"I don't know about celebrating, but I will definitely need a drink," Harry said. "See you later, Nev."

Neville saluted with his wand, then urged the two Aurors to head out ahead of him. By the time they reached the street, they were practically dragging a limp Ron Weasley along behind them.

"Well, that was exciting," Draco said, shaking his head.

"Hardly the word I'd use," Harry muttered. He rubbed his hands over his face. "How am I going to explain this to his family? Oh god, Molly's going to be inconsolable."

Draco patted Harry on the shoulder. "I don't envy you."

"Gee, thanks," Harry said, tossing a smirk at Draco.

"Just pull Arthur aside and tell him," Draco said. "Let him break it to the rest of the family. And stay well out of the way when Ginny finds out, will you?"

Harry shuddered. He and Ginny had broken up amicably after the war, both realizing that they weren't what the other needed. They were still friends—practically family, really—but he planned to be anywhere but in the room when she found out what Ron had done.

"Come on, let's go," Harry said. "We've both got a mountain of paperwork waiting for us."

"You go on," Draco said. "I'll just finish up here and meet you back at the Ministry."

"Something you want to tell me, Malfoy?" Harry asked, one eyebrow raised.

"I've got a potion brewing in back," Draco said. At Harry's look, he went on. "Nothing illegal. I decided to take advantage of the wait and get started on some brewing for the Auror stores. Your cupboards are distressingly bare, Potter."

"We didn't hire you for your potion brewing skills," Harry pointed out.

"No, but you should take advantage of them all the same," Draco said. "Whoever you've got brewing for you at the Ministry should be fed to an angry hippogriff. He's bollocks at potions, that's for sure. It'll take me weeks just to get the stores up to snuff."

Harry just shook his head, a rueful grin spreading over his face. "Welcome back, Malfoy. I'd say it's good to have you, but the jury's still out."

"The Chinese have a saying, Potter: May you live in interesting times," Draco said.

"Sounds more like a curse to me," Harry said. "See you for drinks later?"

"Of course," Draco said, a sly smile tipping his lips. "Someone has to make sure you make it home."

Harry just smiled and shook his head. Once upon a time, he'd have gone another round with Draco, just so he could get the upper hand. Now, with age and the passage of time, he no longer needed those childish games. Maybe he'd mellowed, but then so had Draco. They'd ended up on the same side, after all was said and done. That counted for something in his book.

Harry scooped his cloak off the floor and headed for the door. He turned at the last minute and offered Draco a salute with his wand. Draco just smirked and tipped his head. Harry's own smile bloomed again as he pushed through the door.

One thing was certain: with Draco back in town, things were about to get much more interesting.

~Finis


End file.
